


Strange Love

by agoodwoman



Series: Instinct Over Reason [2]
Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 1997 on set of Vancouver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Love

Rain sprinkled on the Vancouver set as it did in those October months and she stomped her way across lot with the cold night air around her cooling her face. She felt hot, frustrated and embarrassed. There wasn't a reason for them to need a break at this point in the day's schedule but Kim called it suddenly. It seemed a necessary evil after she needed her lines read to her for the third time.

  
This was only hour six of their fourteen hour day. Thankfully it was day five and the respite she needed was coming soon. A short day and a half turn around but a turn around no less.

  
She slammed the door on her trailer and wiped the tears from her eyes that she felt bitter about allowing them to fall. “Self-centred smug asshole!”

  
If anyone walking by her trailer heard her just then they would have a good guess who she was talking about. Even though they were getting along these days, if you could call it that, things weren't exactly terrible but they had been better. And whatever was going on with them, the on again off again they seemed to be doing right now, wasn't helping her emotional state.

  
A female producer pulled her aside last week and reminded her the frequent breaks were reminiscent of another actress who fell apart during a personal struggle. It affected the whole show and, hey by the way, we all are earning a paycheque so could you try to keep it off set?

  
While she was doing her best to mask the pain of an impending divorce, she hadn't realized how many other people it was affecting. Maybe she had but she wasn't thinking of them. She was trying to desperately catch her breath. She was drowning in this.

  
They weren't under the same stress, they didn't understand the pressure of it all. They were able to be faceless and nameless to the public while still pushing out this machine of a hit television show. Sure, they worked the same hours and as she was continually reminded by her soon to be ex, it wasn't all about her. But the pressure definitely came down to how she and David performed.

  
The man was late to set but he wouldn't hold up a shoot due to unnecessary emotion like grief or sadness. He would rather channel that into their unbridled chemistry.

 

The very idea he had any control over what worked for them, because it wasn't anything definable, made her snort.

 

He really was a piece of work. He had been helpful, kind and wonderful during their early years but then the tension of being together constantly proved to be something that worked against their personalities. They weren't meant to spend that much time with anyone, especially each other. The consensus on the crew wasn't exactly siding with her, but they weren't arguing with her either. When he showed up fifteen minutes late, to make a point, it put them all behind schedule. After a few years, you grew tired of running late just because someone likes to prove they're the reason you're there.

  
A glib comment about taking another break to reapply her make up, to double check lines, to ensure they had the blocking right normally didnt phase her. But she was tired. They all were tired but she was especially tired. It had been a rough year coming back into things, a more difficult transition this year, even with their recent success and they were filming the movie in the summer.

  
Did people just expected her to churn this thing out and not need sleep?

  
There was soft knock on the door. “Back in twenty Gillian.”

  
She nodded her head and called her affirmative through the door, hiccuping a few times then going into the small bathroom to splash water on her face. Twenty minutes on set was more like thirty or forty five and the reason everything took so fucking long. They would need to blow out her hair, retouch her cheeks and her lips while David stood around, also retouched but looking bored as though any curl to her hair was a personal slight against him.

  
It wasn't on purpose but every once in a while, she got a little thrill when he looked annoyed. She could ruffle his feathers or play the game. Sometimes she liked to be as much of a pain in the ass as he was.

  
When she came out of the small bathroom he was standing there looking smug and apologetic. That look that made him look like an ice cream cone that she wanted to lick head to toe.

  
_Fucking asshole._

  
“What… what do you want?”

  
“Shit, have you been _crying_?” he asked in that tone she hated. Disbelief mixed with condescension. He rolled his eyes and kicked his shoe against the counter. His tone softened and he tilted his head. “I’m sorry.”

  
“Sure you are,” she scoffed, wiping away the last tear.

  
“Gillian… I am,” he shook his head and took a few preliminary steps towards her. It closed the gap between them considerably in the small space. “You could give me a little credit for coming in here.”

  
She nodded. When things were bad she was the one who came to him to clear the air, he was a sit and fester kind of person. He usually reveled in the discomfort and pain. He liked to roll around in it and absorb the tension. He liked to pick at it like a scab he wouldn’t let heal.

  
“Okay,” she shrugged and pulled her arms closer around herself. She was doing that lately, trying to shrink into herself. If she kept doing that she might disappear completely and escape everything that was haunting her.

  
“Gillian...” he started.

  
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said, referring to the other night.

  
The tension with them wasn’t just personalities. It was exasperated by that but the underlying thing with them was a romance they tried to start continually and failed at. It would work for a while, things would be good on set, the sex between them was intense and powerful while frenzied and voltaic. He could even be less of a jerk and she found his charms to be attractive and charismatic again. They laughed and genuinely enjoyed being around one another.

 

 

They fucked each other senseless on their weekend off and then again after work two nights ago. It was followed promptly by misunderstanding and resentment because they were both as emotionally constipated and difficult as their on screen counterparts.

  
The fuse was less short when the sex was involved in their relationship but he still reached his limits as did she.

  
“We could talk about it,” he suggested, closing the space between them. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his hands up her back. “You’re cold.”

 

“I’m tired,” she mumbled into his chest and slowly looked up at him with large, icy blue sad eyes that looked right through him.

 

He hated when she did that. Her eyes were big and wet and blue. He called them that once in an interview and people thought he was being glib and dismissive. He wasn’t. She really killed him with those.

  
“I’m an asshole,” he admitted and leaned his face in to kiss her.

  
His lips met hers briefly and his tongue rushed to taste her. She pulled away and she looked up at him. It only usually took a kiss to start them down this road and it was always a bad idea.

  
“We have ten minutes,” she warned. “We can’t-”

  
“We can,” he cut her off and kissed her again. She tasted like the last cigarette she smoked and apple slices she was living on. He tasted like coffee and the earthy forbidden fruit she wanted to crawl inside.

  
How did it escalate this quickly with them? Was she that desperate for a distraction from her life or did she just want him all the time?

  
He pulled her suit jacket off her off and tossed it behind them before pulling her blouse out of her skirt. They were dressing her lithe body better these days but it was still a television budget.

  
He preferred the clothes she wore when she was at home, flowery and young. She looked her age. Less dowdy, less reserved, more her.

  
She pulled his tie off while her mouth continued to work against his. She didn’t want things to be like with this with them, to use each other’s bodies as a crutch to get through the stress of their day.

  
This was their secret. This was what they didn’t need to tell everyone about or share with other people.

  
He pushed her back toward the counter and his hands grabbed roughly at the flesh of her legs. He started to tug on her garments roughly and she pushed his hands away knowing if she needed a costume repair it would only slow their evening schedule even more. She wiggled her pants, nylons and panties down her hips and he helped slide them down her ivory legs.

  
David picked her up and set her on the counter near the sink and she began to work on the buttons of her blouse. He kissed along her calves and up her thighs, the stubble he grew after 8 hours starting to scratch the soft skin there. She pulled on his white dress shirt and pulled his mouth to hers as she scooted herself closer to him. He was hard and ready for her.

  
The sound of his belt clinking then a thud as it dropped to the floor. His boxers fell next as he rubbed himself outside her entrance.

  
“Don’t tease,” she gritted her teeth and he pushed roughly inside her, her walls achingly unforgiving at first and he felt like he was being squeezed with a vise. “Oh!”

  
“Sssssssshhhh,” he reminded her.

  
No matter what they thought inside, you could hear everything outside these trailer walls. Not that anyone would lead on to what they were doing in there.

  
She pulled at his backside and they began their quick rhythm. Her orgasms, in this position, needed assistance and she wasn’t shy about helping herself get there. She moved a deft finger across her clit while he kissed her, their mouths breaking apart to pant as they reached toward this sinful finale.

  
What they were doing was wrong, they knew that. She was just separated from her husband with no chance of reconciliation. They were coworkers. They were practically in public. They hated each other half the time. He was an asshole. She was impish and petulant. But he felt so good inside of her. He made her feel dangerous, like the girl who fucked him after a bad audition and assured each other it wouldn’t happen again. It did.

  
In a brief moment of clarity she remembered Piper would be arriving to the set in an hour.

  
_Christ they picked a good time to fuck in her trailer._

  
He dug his fingers into her hips, while he barreled into her. Her mind was brought back to this moment, this sin. It was the pain she recognized when they were together. He grunted into her neck and she recognized it would be close for him soon. Her hand sped up as he thrust inside of her and she rotated her hips into his. Sweat was dripping down his back and the air in the trailer had grown thick.

  
“Oh god,” she whispered. The climb toward her release approached. Her walls swelled and her toes began to curl. “I’m going to…”

  
“Yeah,” he grunted.

  
As her muscles clenched, he pushed inside of her one last time while he emptied himself inside of her.

  
There was a few moments of deep breaths, collecting themselves before he pulled out of her and she climbed off the counter. He pulled his boxers and pants up slowly, eyes avoiding one another while he handed her pieces of her undergarments.

  
Every damn time… It felt better but it felt worse.

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


End file.
